


Tiger Teeth

by there_must_be_a_lock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 11:12:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/there_must_be_a_lock/pseuds/there_must_be_a_lock
Summary: Based on the song by Walk The Moon.





	Tiger Teeth

Dean shouldn’t answer the door. He knows he shouldn’t answer the door. He does it anyway. 

The sight of her punches the breath out of him. It shouldn’t be like this, after all this time. They’ve ripped each other apart so many times he should have scar tissue like plate armor by now. But he sees her and, just like every damn time, something raw and wild is eating him alive. 

“Want to go for a drive?” she asks. 

Dean should say no. He knows how this ends. 

They go for a drive. 

The air between them is heavy and electric. They’re making small talk, but Dean has no idea what he’s saying. All he can focus on is the way she smells, that same goddamn perfume, and it’s bringing back the ghosts of every moment they’re ever spent together, the touch-sound-taste of her echoing through him, so intense he can’t see straight. 

He wasn’t looking for anything when he met her. He’d just wanted to sit alone and drink away the stress of the hunt. But she’d sat down next to him and flashed him this gorgeous smile and it was all over. 

She wasn’t his usual type. She wasn’t flashy, showy, drop-dead beautiful. She was beautiful in a subtle way that shone through when she laughed, and that first night she laughed a lot. There was something in her face that made him want to be honest, as honest as he could be without scaring her, and so he let go of his pickup lines and his facade and they talked until last call had come and gone. 

They’d finally fallen into bed when the sun was rising. It wasn’t the sort of sex that left him quiet and sated. The fire between them just grew and grew, hungry, all-consuming, and the longer he stayed with her the harder it was to consider leaving. He made some bullshit excuse to Sam and he stayed. 

He felt hollow for weeks, after he finally went home. He felt brittle and frail and scrubbed-clean, like he’d fall to pieces if he moved too abruptly, and nothing had held him together except the promise of seeing her again. 

Dean drives them to a park just outside town, and they walk along the jogging path to a long wooden bridge that arches over a little green pond. They give up the pretense of talking and just stand, leaning on the railing, afraid to break whatever spell they always cast on each other. 

He wants to touch her. He wants to hold her and feel her and drink her in while he can. She’s standing just out of reach. 

They watch a turtle swim to the surface of the pond, watch the ripples spreading from his algae-fuzzed shell, and they try to find the words. There’s nothing left to say that they haven’t said a thousand times before. 

“I guess I should go,” she says finally, soft and exhausted. 

They walk back down the jogging path in silence, and he drives her back to the bunker, to her car. They stare at each other. 

He can’t help but hug her goodbye, and the second they touch, it’s all over. He can feel her heartbeat against his chest and her breath against his neck, and he wonders who’ll cave first. 

She does, this time. She presses her lips against his collarbone. It’s so gentle it could be innocent, but he knows better. 

He carries her inside, rips her dress pulling down the zipper, and kisses every inch of her skin, relearning it even though he’s never forgotten a single freckle. Her teeth leave bruises. His nails raise long red welts over her back. They kiss like they’re devouring each other, like they can’t pull each other close enough. 

Dean wants the world to stop spinning for them. He wants to burrow under her skin, swim through her bloodstream, crawl around in her synapses, peel back layers of grey matter until he can read her soul the way he reads her body. Maybe then they’ll be close enough. Maybe then she’ll stay. 

He watches her when she finally falls asleep, watches the pale curve of her cheek and the soft rise and fall of her chest. Nothing has ever felt so right. He begins to hope. 

She leaves the next day. 

 


End file.
